


You Know that Gut Feeling?

by twitchtipthegnawer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputation, Anal Sex, Begging, Blood and Gore, Burns, Cigarettes, Cock & Ball Torture, Come Inflation, Consensual Gore, Cunnilingus, Disembowelment, Fist Fights, Flogging, Knifeplay, Nude Modeling, Other, Safewords, Self-Harm, Skull Fucking, Tooth Pulling, Urban Fantasy, Vivisection, Wax Play, goretober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 19,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8169251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchtipthegnawer/pseuds/twitchtipthegnawer
Summary: Daniel and Zola are a match made in heaven. Or maybe they’re a match made in hell? Daniel’s not particularly clear on what this “minor god” business means for his immortal soul. Then again, his body’s immortal now too, so how much does it matter? Probably about as much as it matters that immortality allows sadists and masochists to get a bit more creative than they would have otherwise.(Goretober fills for my original characters. Each chapter has the pertinent tags listed in the notes, so triggers can be easily avoided!)





	1. Introduction

The first thing that Daniel knew was that he couldn’t die. Which was kinda fucked up, considering that he was a god of creativity and art. What kind of creative art god needed immortality?

The kind of creative art god who saw knives and knew exactly how _creative_ people could get with them, it turned out. Daniel was a modern god, something formed from the chaotic energy swelling above an urban center. So many humans in one place, more of them manipulating the world than anyone could guess at. Of course some of them were sadists.

Daniel had trouble maintaining a solid form, at first. He even had trouble maintaining a solid _self._ But he watched the humans for inspiration, and they didn’t disappoint. They were always inventing new ways to play with one another, and the bruises on humans often seemed as beautiful as paint on canvas.

He didn’t remember where he got the name Daniel. But he remembered the first time he said it to someone, sitting on the roof of a house that was currently being used for a dungeon party. All of a sudden, the space where there had been nothing but ambient energy was filled with a bright, smiling face.

“Hello!” She said, round cheeks and round stomach and round, green eyes. “I’m Zola. Are you a god too?”

“Yeah,” Daniel had replied. His sleepy eyes felt wider than normal at the sound of his own voice. It was higher than he’d thought it would be, but still lower than her bubblegum cute. “I’m Daniel.”

They talked a lot, after that. On the roof, and then in Zola’s home. She spent a lot of time pretending to be a human, she explained, so it helped to have a home address. She was a god of power, and sometimes forgiveness. She knew others, too, a god of recklessness and fun and a god of forethought and technology.

It was strange to go from spending most of his time as a concept, to spending time forcing himself corporeal. At first he needed weeks between meetings, to keep his energy up and stop him from feeling quite so caged in. But he adjusted eventually, and gods don’t age. Zola was patient in the strange way she could be, and when Daniel began accumulating things he liked in her apartment, it made her smile.

Eventually, she started teaching him things. Spells to change his appearance or make humans more agreeable. The names of gods she didn’t like, and what they represented. Even, in time, what she knew about where gods came from.

Admittedly she didn’t know much. Only that most, if not all, had been humans once. They had died, and left their energy, or soul, or self, swirling in the nothingness that was the world without a body. That self then bonded to air, or cloud, or something similarly intangible. It gave them power, but took away much of what made them people. Gods couldn’t truly change or grow, and sometimes were nothing more than the concept they represented.

She often assured Daniel that he was much more than creativity. It was hard to believe her, because there were days when Daniel wanted to stop existing altogether, ethereal or not. Creativity meant bad things, too, horrible things, like pain when humans begged to stop.

But then one day she kissed him, in her tiny apartment full of odd collections of things, and Daniel realized that the world was kinder than he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: They are both nonbinary! Daniel is a nan0boy and Zola is a demigirl. They use gendered terms to refer to each other mostly because they’re both too lazy to adjust their vocabulary in private settings.


	2. Medical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-consensual gore, vivisection, eye trauma, needles.

He’d been physical too often lately. Most of the others kept a balance, but Zola liked to look and act human all the time. It wasn’t a problem for her, with the way she knew how to gather and use power to get whatever outcome she wanted. But Daniel had never had her talent with magic, and he knew that staying physical so much wasn’t good for him. He just couldn’t help himself; he wanted to spend all his time around her.

Now, he sincerely regretted it. The world around him was fuzzy, bright light above him and the taste in his mouth rancid. “Subject is coming out of anesthetic!” Daniel heard. “How long has it been?” Whoever it was sounded harried, and part of Daniel wanted to tell them to calm down.

Pain was crawling in at the edges of his consciousness. His breathing picked up slowly as he felt it, his entire torso _wrong_ in some way he couldn’t yet put his finger on. “Hour and a half,” said a much calmer voice.

“Look at this,” said a third person. “Heart rate just _doubled._ You were right, holy shit.” Daniel wanted to ask, _Right about what?_ He wanted to smile at the profanity.

Then he felt something _in his chest, touching his heart,_ and all thoughts of smiling were wiped out. This wasn’t nice pain. This was panic, the building agony of his body reaching a peak he’d never felt before and still climbing. He’d heard a myth before, an urban legend about a group of people who studied gods without really understanding what they were. He’d thought they were as much a lie as most people would think he was.

Never in his life had being wrong hurt so badly. The hand on his heart shifted, and he jerked reflexively, restraints binding his arms and legs to a table and keeping him from moving much. He could tilt his head up, though, and while it spun he knew what he was looking at.

His whole body had been split open, two flaps of skin pulled apart and pinned to his sides to expose his organs to the air. He sucked in a quick breath, wasn’t sure what to do with it, but the sight of his lungs _filling_ meant that he couldn’t stop the scream from escaping. Even when a gloved hand covered his mouth, the muffled noise kept escaping. “Someone shut him up!”

“Look at those _eyes._ ” Daniel couldn’t focus on the words.

“Think we should get an intraocular fluid sample?” His eyes were wider than he could remember them being, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

"Hold his eyelids.” A hand came down, fingers relentless on his cheek and below his thin eyebrow. No, no, no, _no,_ he didn’t want this. 

The needle came closer with a terrible slowness. Daniel couldn’t make out the faces of any of the people above him, lighting and medical masks turning them into anonymous monsters. They had lives, he knew. Even now he could feel their potential for _creativity._ For once, he _hated_ it. 

Pinching pain ripped through his head like the world’s worst headache, followed by a sucking sensation that had Daniel screaming through the hand on his mouth again. He couldn’t _breathe,_ couldn’t see, couldn’t do anything but writhe helplessly beneath hands and scalpels and syringes. They were doing something with his guts, he could _feel it,_ and it hurt it hurt it _hurt._

It had to end eventually. Daniel would regain enough thought to slip ethereal and away, his power would lash out in a last ditch attempt to stop the pain, the humans would get bored of a creature that never died. But for now everything was fire in his head and any length of time more was too long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel works at a cafe that has poetry readings, local artist displays, and open mic acoustic music nights. Zola has worked at a number of places, not because she likes to switch jobs, but because she likes a challenge. When Daniel met her, she was working at a daycare.


	3. Eye Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skullfucking, fun with spoons, consensual gore.

Today, Zola had told him to prepare for something more intense than usual. Daniel had spent the whole day buzzing with excitement, to the point where even his coworkers noticed. One had even pulled him aside and asked if he was filching coffee, because he never seemed to look anything other than _lazy._ Today was special, though, and he’d grinned at her and said as much.

But when he got home, he was left thoroughly confused. Zola had set out their tarp, which normally meant there would be quite a bit of blood, and she had her favorite strap on, which she only used when she was planning to fuck him while he was in pain (they’d learned early on that shapeshifting a dick during a scene was… not a good plan for him). The only problem was that, instead of knives or a cane or a whip, she’d set out… a spoon.

In fairness, it looked like a rather sharp spoon. She’d bent it weirdly and clearly honed the edges, but Daniel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows a bit at it. “A spoon?” He said, bewildered.

“Right,” Zola’s grin was a bit nervous, but her hands holding Daniel’s were as steady as ever. “You might wanna sit down for this.”

She explained the plan quickly, the way she always did when she wasn’t sure if he’d agree. Like ripping off a bandaid. When she was done, she played with his fingers, bending them this way and that gently. It wasn’t until Daniel brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips that she met his eyes again.

“Let’s do it.”

Kneeling on a folded, black towel, Daniel took a deep breath. Zola stroked his cheek with one hand, holding the spoon with the other. Carefully, she held his eyelids open. Her hands were soft and loving, even when she slid the sharpened edge of the spoon along his cheekbone, leaving a thin, crescent cut. They exchanged shaky smiles.

Then she dove in, spoon sliding between eye and socket. It burned, blocked out part of his vision, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before until she twisted the spoon, and he could _feel_ the nerves sever, the sudden blackness and absence when his eye popped out of his skull.

There was a reason they’d soundproofed the apartment. Daniel’s scream was guttural, the kind of sound most people who knew him couldn’t imagine him making. His normally soft voice wailed and wailed, and his chest shook in huge, all-encompassing sobs. He could barely focus when Zola coaxed his mouth open, but the sudden starburst of copper on his tongue definitely caught his attention.

“Don’t pop it,” she ordered. Tears and blood dripping from his cheeks, Daniel nodded. He would be a good boy. He would.

The dildo slid into his empty socket smooth as a dream, but it hurt worse than anything Daniel had ever felt before. His ears were ringing, but he was out of breath like he was still making sounds, and even though the dildo was small the whole world was tilting dangerously and--

She thrust in and out with smooth, rocking motions. “There’s my good boy,” she said, but he couldn’t hear her. _Red_ hovered on the edge of his consciousness, three taps to her thigh, wait, no, he wasn’t ready for it to end yet. The eyeball on his tongue was just this side of squishy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel doesn’t have many marks on his body, which makes the long, thin scars on his hips and ass very noticeable. Zola has tons of stretch marks and moles and such, and loves them.


	4. Mouth Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooth pulling, eating out, my ocs being cuties.

The pliers were huge, blunt, and cold in Daniel’s mouth. He licked along the metal playfully the first time Zola stuck them in his mouth, and when she caught his tongue with them he only blinked. “You can be such a brat,” she said affectionately.

“Mhmm,” Daniel hummed back. It came out kinda weird with his mouth all stretched and hanging open, but it still got him a giggle. 

Zola latched the pliers to one of his bottom, front teeth. “Ready?” Daniel squeezed her thigh to signal that yes, he was, and then she _yanked._

 _Like pulling teeth_ had never been more apt. There was a _sucking_ sound, and then his tooth came free, the roots long and white when Zola held it up to inspect it. “How’s it feel?” She asked, Daniel still panting through the pain.

“Hurts,” he replied, prodding at the empty space with his tongue. His whole mouth was flooded with saliva and blood, and he could feel two high points of color on his cheeks. “‘S nice.”

“Thought it would,” Zola said. She picked a canine next, wiggling the pliers in his mouth to get a firm grip on it. “Tell me when.”

“Now,” said Daniel, though it came out more like _ow._ That sucking sensation was _dreadful,_ and he couldn’t get enough of it. Already, he wanted to ask when they were going to do this again.

“Good boy, Zola praised, setting the canine beside his other tooth. He stuck his tongue out a bit, trying to look teasing and ending up more like a happy, sloppy puppy. His eyes stung, but no tears had spilled just yet, and his whole body was shaking with anticipation. He didn’t even realize he was hard before Zola trailed the pliers down his torso, ending just above the dyed thatch of pubic hair.

There was an awkward pause as Daniel wondered if he should be enjoying this so much, and then Zola was standing, unbuttoning her shorts and pulling them off as harshly as she’d pulled out Daniel’s teeth. “Lick,” she ordered.

Nuzzling between her legs, Daniel tried to make the position less awkward. Zola helped by slinging one chubby leg over his shoulder, then canting her hips into his mouth. Now he had free access, but his gums were _aching,_ and when he opened his mouth to obey her order he got blood all over her. It dripped down her thighs, soaked into her pubes, fell sloppy down his chin to his throat.

“ _Oh,_ ” Zola sighed, grinding down onto his face slowly. He brought his hands up to steady her, then looked up with watery eyes to see her smiling down fondly. “Looks almost like I’m on my period,” she commented, which made Daniel’s heart ache because it was a reminder that she couldn’t be.

Sadness couldn’t find much purchase when Daniel’s face was crammed against Zola’s crotch, though. She tasted musky, and sour and warm, but it was hard to make any of that out through the metallic salt of his blood. He didn’t mind; he’d get plenty of chances to taste her again later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel owns three rats! Soapy, Princet, and Rover. Rover got his name from being huge and weirdly doglike. Zola loves pets, but never bought any herself. Daniel considered getting a raven, but worried they were too hard for him to care for.


	5. Amputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safewording, amputation, fricking your boyfriend's cute butt.

There were some things that Zola wanted to try, that Daniel genuinely had no interest in. This one required too much prep work, for the kind of payoff that would leave him conscious but incapacitated for the rest of the day. If he didn’t know that all it took was a good night’s sleep to reset his body, he wouldn’t have agreed.

As it was, all it took was some convincing on Zola’s part. Convincing, and a promise that she’d get Daniel a present as soon as possible (it really was about time she got him a collar). So he found himself lying on their bed, flat on his back as she tied a tourniquet around his upper arm.

It took all of his concentration to keep his body loose and ready for what was about to happen. His arm going numb helped, and eventually he allowed his eyes to slide closed. For once, he didn’t want to watch. Zola kept checking in with him, making sure he was okay, but the answer was always the same. _Yes, Zola, I’m fine, Zola, I want to get to the part where you fuck me, Zola._

The bonesaw was huge in Zola’s hands, but she knew how to wield it. A part of Daniel worried, when she showed her skills like this, that she had practiced them with someone else. But no, of course she hadn’t; Julian and Zelda both hated pain.

Daniel’s arm came away with a heavy _thump._ Carelessly, Zola tossed it aside, knowing that Daniel didn’t particularly want her to play with it. She left the tourniquet in place, but didn’t bother bandaging him up. She liked seeing the raw meat on the inside of his body, parts no one else ever got to see. He liked her seeing them, too.

Instead of hurting, exactly, it was as though the numbness had taken on a distinctly ugly aftertaste. “How you doing sweetheart?” Zola asked again, rubbing his flanks firmly.

“Good,” Daniel said. He sounded a bit muzzy even to himself. He wondered what his eyes looked like, blinking slowly and glazed over.

Zola pressed into him with a slow, steady pressure. She had shapeshifted a smaller cock than usual, but with Daniel’s muscles tensing it was only the preparation they’d done earlier that kept her from hurting him. While she’d fingered him open, he had been hard.

Blearily looking down his own body, Daniel saw the long line of his cock lying flaccid against his thigh. He tried to move his arm to touch himself as Zola began a gentle thrusting rhythm, but nothing happened. Oops, wrong arm.

Noticing Daniel’s twitching stump, Zola gasped quietly. “Ah, you look so good,” she panted.

“You think?” Daniel asked, moving his other hand up to stroke her chest. His fingertips were lighter than usual, chewed nails barely grazing her skin. He looked good?

Suddenly Zola paused, and her voice went high and worried. “Daniel, what color are you?” She asked. Daniel knew the color she wanted him to give. _Yellow_ hovered on the edge of his tongue, because he wanted to be good, he wanted her to keep touching him. He wanted. And yet.

“Red,” Daniel said. His voice was as faint as it could go, but Zola was damn good at reading lips.

All at once, Zola was pulling out, shushing him and telling him how well he did. He didn’t understand, they’d barely started, but for the first time since they set the safewords he felt genuine relief at using them. She propped his feet up on two pillows, then reached over the side of the bed for the bandages they’d set there. Strangely, as Daniel watched blood sluggishly ooze from his stump, he thought that today was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola loves yellow, but prefers it in weird shades. Like half-healed bruises and chewy fat. Daniel finds both colors repulsive and refuses to make her any clothing in those shades.


	6. Guts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual gore! Happy disembowelment day!

Zola’s favorite organs were the small intestine and large intestine. She loved fat, too, but Daniel didn’t have much on him, so she often got bored of poking at the yellow substance and focused on his intestines instead.

She’d opened him up with a huge blade today, something Daniel considered calling a dagger in his mind. He didn’t know where she’d gotten it from, but he did know that she’d done a lot of damage with it. The only reason he hadn’t passed out from blood loss was that she’d told him to stop his bleeding with magic.

Holding onto that magic was getting really, really hard. She held up a thick loop of intestine in one hand, pinky-purple and cute, and nuzzled it. Every shift brought lightning strikes of pain through Daniel, making his hands spasm and clench. His nails bit into his palms painfully.

The washcloth in Zola’s other hand bloomed red when she dipped it back into the water. “You’re so messy inside,” Zola teased. “We’ve gotta clean you out.”

Daniel tried to respond, but all that came out was a wracking cough. He wasn’t sure what his intestines had to do with his lungs, maybe Zola had damaged them accidentally when she’d ripped him open, but he’d been coughing up blood for a while.

Quite a bit of Daniel’s body was currently _outside_ of where it should be. It was strange to be so empty, with blood pooling sluggishly in the gaps his organs had left behind. Oops, it wasn’t meant to be-- _ah!_

Carefully jerking his organs once more, Zola smiled wide. Her eyes crinkled up adorably, but Daniel couldn’t see them with the way his own eyes had rolled back into his head. “Don’t worry, good boy, I’ve got you.”

“N-n- _nhhhg!!_ ” Daniel wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. The blood splatter from his next cough sprayed onto Zola’s cheek, and she only closed her eyes blissfully.

“There we go,” Zola said, using the washcloth to clean blood off more of his small intestine as gently as possible. She followed the soft cloth with a fingertip, tracing veins she could clearly see through the thin layer of casing.

He was shaking so hard he thought he’d come apart at the seams. It was good, it was awful, it was none of the gentleness he so often craved but it was still _Zola._ She looked at him with obvious love in her eyes, occasionally set his intestines in her lap so she could free a hand to pet the edges of the jagged gash in his belly. Too much, all of it, the tender care given to an activity that was so distinctly violent.

A part of Daniel was getting frightened that he couldn’t live without it. Without this fucked up marvel of an evening to look forward to. Without Zola toying with the half-digested food in his body, squeezing it up and down the tubes of him. Without sadism and masochism stitching him together.

Then again, there was a chance that he would never have to live without it. Then again-again, he wasn’t really alive, was he? It was easy to forget that, when Zola spilled him open and kissed down the length of his guts, but she would remind him. She always reminded him. And on the rare occasions she needed it, he reminded her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel moved in with Zola when he started spending most of his time corporeal. Her apartment was gross, frankly, but at first Daniel didn’t mind much. Later, he decided to move out for a bit, and realized how much better he liked his clean and pleasingly decorated apartment. Zola moved in with him six months later.


	7. Too Much Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic... vampirism? Blood drinking and blood puking and blood in general.

Another wave of blood flooded past Daniel’s mouth. He was choking on it, suffocating, drowning, it was in his _nose_ and his _eyes,_ all down his front, he’d been wearing a white button-down and it was all red now, nothing but red--

He hadn’t meant for it to happen.

There had been a woman in an alley. Behind the community theater, Daniel knew the alley, he had been floating about ethereal and happy and listening to shouting voices and then there had been. It was a scream, it was a cry for help that he could answer, so he’d become human to answer it but. He’d become _wrong._

Her attacker had still fled, he was pretty sure. It was hard to be certain. The woman had run away, whoever had pinned her to the wall had run away, _Daniel_ had run away. His hands were covered in blood.

“Daniel? What-- _oh!_ ”

Zola’s voice. Zola was here, she’d make it all better. Daniel clung to her shoulders, or-- wrong bones. Her hips? When had he gotten on his knees?

“Daniel, I need you to listen carefully,” Zola said. “Were you at the theater?” Her voice was too measured and too even the way it got when she was scared. _She was scared._

Struggling through the confusion, Daniel nodded. “Alright. You formed in a hurry?” Nod. “Your power is a bit out of control, at the moment. I need to drain it. Do you want to be ethereal.” Shake. “Okay. Hang on dearest, it’ll be better soon.”

Somehow he ended up on the couch. Did Zola carry him? It didn’t hurt, exactly, he wanted to tell her it didn’t. It was okay, he was just, panicking, he was just. Okay, she said she’d make it better.

Teeth that were entirely too sharp latched onto his neck, piercing the artery. Zola liked doing that, liked making her teeth monstrous things that frightened children at halloween. There was a groaning sound against his skin, and _oh,_ that _was_ Zola. Her teeth detached from his neck, and then he had another source of blood pouring from him, only a little ways down from the rest of them.

Loud gulping sounds were echoing inside of Daniel’s head. Was he swallowing? No, no he was still breathing hard, breath that crackled in his lungs. Zola, Zola was swallowing. His blood? That was nice, he liked when she took those parts of him into herself, it was. Nice.

Was there less blood in his eyes? He blinked, and could almost get the left one clear. Gulp. Blink. Yes, there _was_ less. Gulp. He could get _air._ Not much, not enough, but there had been a splutter in there, it wasn’t a waterfall of blood anymore, he was. He would be okay.

She stayed latched onto him for a long while. Slowly, Daniel became aware of other things, the fact that she was straddling his lap and that his arms were wrapped around her so tightly they must have hurt. She didn’t complain, though, only hummed happily when he loosened his grip. His eyes went blurry with tears, washing away the last of the blood.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he croaked. Zola pulled back, one of her hands clamping onto his neck to stop the blood from flowing out.

“My darling, I should be thanking you. I haven’t been this full in _ages._ ” She pressed her belly against him for emphasis, normally soft skin taut over her stretched stomach.

Startled, Daniel stared down at the swell. She looked nearly pregnant. “That’s all me?” He said, his voice a little high and alarmed.

“You soaked up a bit too much power too fast,” Zola said. She wasn’t laughing, but there was a twinkle in her eyes. “Good thing your lady’s an expert on that kind of stuff. But don’t do it again any time soon, I might burst.”

“Yeah, I’m not planning on it.” The blood felt like it had scoured his throat raw, while Zola sounded fine. Well, that certainly could’ve ended a lot better. Or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: They eventually do get married, though it’s years after they first met. Their wedding anniversary is December 28, because that way no one they know can possibly forget it. Zola celebrates her birthday on April 1, because she’s like that. Daniel celebrates his on the winter solstice every year, because he’s a big nerd.


	8. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-consensual gore, implications of abuse, needles.

For once, Daniel wasn’t the one covered in blood and bruises. “You need to not pick fights,” he said, wrinkling his nose while he smeared alcohol over one of Zola’s scrapes.

“He was asking for it.” Zola grinned toothily, but Daniel only raised his eyebrows. “And besides, better me than a human, right? Damn, but that stings.”

Sighing heavily, Daniel put down the pink cotton ball and grabbed a fresh one. “If you want to teach a human a lesson, you could just scare them. Or curse them.”

“Yeah,” Zola said softly. “But he wasn’t _just scaring_ those kids.”

Well. Daniel picked up the bruise cream, dabbing it onto his fingertip. They were nearly out, he realized. He should probably remind Zola to pick some up the next time she went to the drug store, but it was kind of hard to think about that when she was sitting in front of him, pouting and hurt.

“I worry,” Daniel admitted. “There’s a lot that can go wrong, even if we’re immortal.”

Zola winced a bit when he touched her swollen cheekbone, but the soothing cream had her relaxing again quickly. “I know. Hey,” her fingertips touched under his chin, tilting his head up to look at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A wobbly smile made it’s way onto Daniel’s lips. “Me neither,” he promised. Then he looked at Zola’s forehead critically, and said, “You’re gonna need stitches.”

“Yup,” Zola grinned again. Daniel rolled his eyes, but he still reached into the first aid kit to grab their needle and thread. He didn’t bother warning her that it would hurt; she’d patched him up enough times to know. Brushing her bangs aside, he went to work.

The curve of the needle sank into the skin above her eyebrow smooth as a dream. Daniel’s hands were steady, practice at sewing both clothing and flesh having made him confident. Even when Zola’s face twitched at the pain, breath hissing between clenched teeth, he kept the stitches totally steady. Truth be told, they weren’t _entirely_ necessary, but Daniel wanted to teach her a lesson.

Five minutes later, and Daniel was cutting the thread. Zola breathed a sigh of relief, but she tensed immediately when Daniel spoke again. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Er,” Zola looked sheepish, eyeing him from under her eyelashes.”Okay, don’t be mad.” She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt, flakes of blood falling as she detached it from her skin. Daniel had thought the blood was from the poor sucker she’d fought.

Clearly, he had been wrong. “Jesus christ,” Daniel touched her stomach lightly, right in the middle, away from the small, deep stab. “Did he…?”

“My organs are fine,” Zola soothed. The wound was still bleeding sluggishly though, and she was right. It needed stitches.

Daniel bit his bottom lip, but stayed steady while he cleaned the wound. Zola damn near growled at the sting of the alcohol, and normally the sound would be absolutely _tantalizing_ for Daniel, but the stress was starting to get to him.

Then he was stitching Zola back together, careful and precise. She only needed four, with the cut as short as it was, but it felt like more. The seconds stretched and bled together, Zola’s breath hitching around angry sounds. When he was done her skin was raised and red and, he had to admit, rather pretty. He just wished she hadn’t gotten hurt to achieve the look.

She snorted and flicked him in the nose as if she could read minds. “Keep staring, and I’m gonna get ideas for next time we play,” she said. Daniel didn’t stop, because with a threat like that, why would he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel doesn’t like small purses at all. Zola usually crams the stuff she needs into her pockets, but Daniel carries a huge, black “purse” at all times. He has such practical items inside it as: basically all the makeup he might need, an entire first aid kit, and whatever book he’s currently reading.


	9. Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual gore, cigarettes, mention of sex.

Sometimes Daniel and Zola played gentle. Today she had a pack of menthols beside her, one of them hanging from her lips. As a general rule, she didn’t smoke; the smell lingered, and wasn’t one she was fond of. But they had been in the mood for something soft, so she’d bought some.

Daniel was lounging on her bed, spread out on his stomach with his arms cushioning his head. She lay beside him, her elbow digging into the bed as she propped her head up. She took a slow drag of the cigarette, then breathed out hot against Daniel’s bare back, sending goosebumps up his spine.

It was a lazy morning, so Zola didn’t bother giving him any warning before she took the menthol between her fingers. The tip glowed with heat as she brought it down, placing it carefully in the center of his left shoulder blade. Sometimes she liked to be random and whimsical in her placement, but this was achingly deliberate.

The embers stung against Daniel’s skin, and he opened his mouth on his next exhale. She hadn’t chosen a particularly sensitive spot just yet, but he could already feel heat flushing his cheeks.

Relighting the cigarette with a lazy flick of her finger, Zola traced a snakelike pattern in the air just above Daniel’s skin. The threat of pain was so poignant that he found himself biting his tongue, seeking even the tiniest bit of relief.

She brought the cigarette down against his spine next. He couldn’t help but arch into the feeling, gasp as the pain trickled through him honey-sweet drips. Zola replaced the cigarette between her lips, then stroked down Daniel’s spine, a slow pressure that stung like a hoard of bees when it passed over the small, circular burn.

Slightly bloody fingers went back to the cigarette, gripping it with an elegance that Daniel wanted to watch. If only his eyelids weren’t so heavy, weighed down by endorphins and anticipation. She went for his ribs this time, and the pain _radiated,_ drawing out a gasp that turned into a happy sigh. Daniel could do this for _hours._

Thankfully, Zola always seemed to know what he wanted. She dotted the hollows between his ribs, turned his spine into a spongy mess. She drew a small circle on the small of his back that he particularly loved. By the time she started prodding at the sticky burns he was panting.

“Lovely boy,” she said, sounding perfectly content. “Are you hard?”

Blush blazing red as her cigarette’s lit end, Daniel nodded. It was still hard to admit that he enjoyed this in such a primal way. His body sometimes felt like it wasn’t his own, but in moments like this he was grounded, Zola’s body heat and the sheets’ softness and his own flesh’s pain meshing into something perfect. He didn’t grind against the bed, wouldn’t until she told him he could, but the pleasure curling like a lazy cat in his lap was just another part of the perfect moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel has an ao3 account and reads fanfic. He likes a lot of anime, and watches them with Zola. Occasionally, when he finds a fic he really likes, he’ll read it to her. It’s usually either hurt/comfort or crack fic.


	10. Consensual Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperation, knifeplay, begging/dirty talk.

Daniel’s “Museums of the world” tour lasted about three days too long. He’d come up with the idea on a whim, and with Zola’s enthusiastic agreement and Julian tagging along, it had seemed like a great plan. It _had_ been great, right up until the itching under Daniel’s skin had started getting too insistent to calm down with nothing but texts from Zola.

So he found himself tumbling into her living room, her hand locked around his forearm and the door opened before he’d even touched the doorknob. “My darling,” she said, bright and affectionate. “Brave baby, was it hard? You did so well.”

She looked like it might have been almost as hard for her as it was for Daniel, but her praise made him feel more at ease instantly. He breathed in the slightly astringent scent of her, watched the bounce of her curls as she drew him in close. “Zola, please,” he said.

Even if he didn’t quite know what he was begging for, she did. She led him to the couch with that bruising grip, then sat them both down. “You want the knives?” Zola asked sweetly.

 _Knives._ “Please,” he whimpered. Just the word was enough to send a shiver down Daniel’s spine. He wasn’t allowed to hurt himself without her around (it was one of the rules they’d made early on) so he’d been completely devoid of pain for so _long._

With a wave of her hand, Zola brought one of their favorite knives flying through the air. The handle landed in her fingers with a sureness that Daniel loved. “Tell me where you want it sweetness,” she cooed.

“Thigh, thighs, I--” Daniel swallowed hard, spreading his thighs. “Please, Zola, I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will,” she said. The first cut was too near his knee and far too shallow, but it was still a sweet relief. And it was all the better for the knowledge that there was more coming.

Next she went a bit higher, a bit deeper. She worked her way up his left side first, pausing only to take his hands one at a time and guide them to her shoulders. It gave him something to hang onto, when she began slicing deep enough to expose a meager layer of fluffy, yellow fat. Relieved sounds gave way to long, pained moans, and their cheeks flushed bright with exhilaration.

By the time she reached the crease between Daniel’s hip and thigh, blood was pouring to the couch beneath them. There was so much that he was feeling a bit lightheaded, and giddy thoughts wouldn’t stop running through his mind. Like how glad he was that he’d worn a skirt, so she could hike it up as she went and not waste time getting undressed. Or how much he loved Zola.

It was good to take a break, once in a while. Every deity in the world could see that he didn’t _want_ it, but sometimes medicine tasted sour. And the relief at the end, coming home to see her and feeling _this,_ was more than worth it.

As Zola started in on his right thigh, Daniel found he couldn’t stop shaking. Her first cut bit bone, a screeching pain clawing up his body at the sensation. “I love you,” he said. The inside of his head felt so quiet, compared to the desperate, hiccuping breaths he sucked down, and Zola’s feral panting.

“I know,” she replied. The knife fell again, and was quickly followed by her fingers, digging deep into the warm wetness of his body. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola likes strong flavors. Drown anything in salt or sugar and she probably loves it. Daniel’s big into gourmet cooking and it drives him absolutely crazy that Zola is like this.


	11. Cannibalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pet names and hard vore oh my

Zola’s teeth were much, much sharper than usual. There wasn’t much meat on Daniel’s body for her to bite into, but that wasn’t stopping her, and one of his forearms had a bloody chunk ripped out of it already. The pain made his head hazy, his smile even more dopey than usual.

“Hart,” she said, the new pet name thrilling and sweet. “It’s too bad we can’t fatten you up. Your venison tastes so good, but there’s so little of it.”

Whining apologetically, Daniel nuzzled her wet cheek, smearing his own blood across his face. Zola smiled, saying, “Aw, darling, don’t worry. I’ll enjoy my meal either way.”

His cheek made a horrible _ripping_ sound when she bit into it, tearing away a patch of flesh that left him drooling onto the ground. He gasped, fighting the feeling of drowning, wishing that his tongue would stay in his mouth like it was meant to. Zola traced the remainder of his lips with a single fingertip, chipped green polish catching on the sensitive skin.

“Where do you want next?” Zola asked, speaking so quickly that Daniel had trouble understanding her. She still got over-excited sometimes, and through the pain he couldn’t help but find it cute.

“Shoulder,” he croaked. The word was garbled, but still understandable, and Zola grinned widely.

She bit the joint between his neck and shoulder, which wasn’t quite what he meant, but it felt good all the same. She even left her mouth pressed against his shredded flesh as she chewed, letting him feel her mouth work. Swallowing with a wet, heavy sound, Zola sat back to inspect him. She looked so _pleased_ that Daniel whimpered again.

“There you go darling,” Zola said when Daniel slumped against her. “There you go.”

With supernaturally strong hands, Zola laid him down on his back, making sure that she didn’t put too much pressure on his wounds. “Let’s see what we can do about those strong deer legs,” she teased, though he couldn’t respond at this point. Everything in his mind was dedicated to the feelings that rose in him like tsunami; words were far beyond him.

Kind hands touched Daniel’s foot, looped around his ankle and propped his calf high enough for Zola to kiss it. Her lips ran up and down the back of his leg, sending a tingling, pleasant feeling up his spine. It was a nice distraction from the pain, right up until she bit down again.

When she swallowed down the next hunk of meat, she took his intact arm and stroked down it. He thought she was going to bite him again, but instead she guided his hand to press against her stomach. It felt warmer than usual, full enough that he could feel the bulge of it through her soft layer of fat. “Can you feel that, sweetling?”

Yeah. Yeah, he really, really could. His hand weakly shifting to rub her stomach said as much, and she smiled down at him. The too-big teeth in her mouth looked softer through the haze of tears.

“Delicious pet,” Zola said. “I’ll never have too much of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel has a fear of insects and arachnids. He honestly didn’t think he was afraid of them at all, until one day he saw a bunch of spiders in the house and Zola was there to see it. When she pointed out how pale and shaky he got, he was genuinely surprised. Self aware this boy is not.


	12. Plant Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very soft guro, very safe for work.

Daniel had been planning this for ages. It was kind of embarrassing, but it was necessary, for a stunt like this. He’d mostly used the park for practice, since no one minded much if the grass there was growing a bit faster than usual, or if the flowers were more vibrant. It wasn’t much, but he hoped that it would be enough.

The party they were going to was fancier than anything they liked to go to on their own. But Julian had insisted, and Daniel had sewn Zola a mermaid evening gown that was green and comfortable, so there they were. Surrounded by rich humans and undercover gods.

His own dress was more striking than Zola’s, black and long and sweeping, with red poppies embroidered in it. To look at them, it seemed like Daniel was the leader in the eccentric pairing. The appearance was only skin deep; he was clutching Zola’s hand so tightly he was certain it ached.

With her steadying him, though, he could handle it. So he went into the party with his head held high and a bellyfull of seeds. And he kept a very, very careful eye on the clock.

Dinner was a boring affair during which Daniel picked at his salad. Zola’s glances got progressively more worried as the evening wore on, no doubt assuming Daniel was stressed about the strangers pressing in on all sides. But it was hard for him to be stressed when his skin felt so itchy that he wanted to pull it all off.

Afterwards, the crowds of people moved outdoors, to a garden done up in fairy lights. Music played softly from hidden speakers, and Daniel’s skin was starting to feel as though it was being pricked from the inside out by hundreds of thousands of needles. He was ready.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning down to speak directly into Zola’s ear. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Cheekily slipping an arm around his waist, Zola steered them both to a more secluded corner. “What is it?” She asked, curiosity shining in her eyes. They looked so beautiful like this, the barest hints of makeup setting off their deep green color.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Daniel said, “Watch.”

Tiny, sharp prickles became pain, blooming from his skin in the places he directed. The green vines were nothing more than tiny sprouts along his scalp, and were entirely swallowed beneath his long hair, but that would change very soon.

He let out a breath at the same time he started funneling more energy into the red cypress vines. Their lacy leaves twined, vibrant and green, down his arms. Gentle braiding patterns formed as more and more vines flowed out of him, twining with his hair as well. Zola gasped softly, and Daniel felt the corner of his lips tick up, but he didn’t let it distract him.

Finally, when the vines in his hair brushed the small of his back through his dress, Daniel gave one last _push._ Flowers bloomed along the lengths of the plants, tiny, fragile, bright red stars. They were striking, he knew they were, but Zola’s exclamation of “ _Daniel,_ ” was satisfying nonetheless.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of Zola bouncing on the balls of her feet to get closer to his face. “That was _amazing,_ ” she said breathlessly.

Muted golf claps came from his left, and Daniel’s head whipped around. It was one of the other gods at the party, with a knowing smile on their lips. He wouldn’t have minded much, except that it was catching the attention of the humans, and his cheeks were already flushing at the eyes on him.

“Thank you!” Zola said, bowing. She always handled attention better than him. “We’ll be here all night.”

Zola came up from her bow with a mischievous smile on her face and a hand slipping around Daniel’s back to comb through his hair. When she found a strand of vine, she yanked on it, sending a jolt through Daniel’s skull. Embarrassment aside, he was going to count the night as a success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel likes taking night classes at the local community college, and has a lot of friends there. Zola hates how spending unnecessarily, so she mostly watches instructional youtube videos.


	13. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waxplay, cock & ball torture, me being disgusting to make up for the fluff from yesterday.

Zola had a candle in one hand, and stilettos on her feet. Normally she hated wearing high heels, but today she didn’t have to walk anywhere. Hell, she didn’t even have to stand, if she didn’t want to.

Daniel was kneeling at her feet, looking up at where she lounged in the plush armchair. She had been teasing him for what seemed like forever, lighting and extinguishing the candle over and over again. She kept digging the heels into his thighs, leaving behind tiny bruises, , but she wasn’t even looking down to do it. Which made her ability to find those bruises a bit uncanny, but still.

“Please,” Daniel whined, doing his best to make his face cute instead of sleepy.

“You keep whining like that, and you won’t get it at all,” Zola cautioned. Yet she finally, finally, lit the candle and didn’t look like she’d extinguish it immediately.

While she waited for the wax to melt, Zola trailed the pointed heel up his thigh. She dug it in just above his knee, until pain radiated across the whole joint, then switched legs. This next one she traced into the meat of his thigh, and just when he expected her to dig it in, she drew back and _punched_ downwards, digging a shallow hole into his thigh.

At the same time she tipped the candle, and the first dribble of indigo wax hit Daniel’s chest. He arched, cried out sharp and pointed like the heel of her shoes. He was pretty sure there was actual metal in those things.

“There you go,” Zola said. “Next time, though, I want you to keep quiet. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” said Daniel. He sounded breathless already, and they’d barely started. All of the teasing must have caught up with him. Of course, he was achingly hard, but he didn’t expect anything to be done about that.

Which was why he was so surprised when, eyeing him critically, Zola said, “Show me your balls.” He flushed brighter at the order, but did as she said, slipping his hands beneath himself to nudge his balls forward and his cock out of the way.

She left a trail of wax along the top of his thigh, each drip a bright, burning spot the moment before it cooled. Somehow, he didn’t realize what she was going to do before she did it, and the heat of melting wax across his balls was so much worse than it was anywhere else. He had to bite his tongue to keep quiet, and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

“Good boy,” Zola said, sending a warm rush through Daniel that was so much more gentle than the candle wax. “Color?” She was tracing ticklish patterns into his thighs with her heels again, but it was more soothing than he would’ve expected.

“Green.” Daniel’s voice was halting and wrecked, but he managed to keep it quiet. Barely.

Once again Zola drove her heel down _hard,_ leaving a small puncture wound beside the other one. At the same time she trailed wax against his lower stomach, leaving it cooling in his pubic hair. He winced; picking that out would _hurt._

“Push your cock down,” Zola said. “Slowly.” Daniel had almost forgotten his hands on himself, but he was relieved to realize he’d been keeping them still. If he’d started jacking himself without Zola’s permission, he would’ve felt ashamed. When he obeyed, though, his heart started pounding. Because, was she going to…?

Apparently, she was. Zola let a huge glob of wax fall over his shaft, coating a significant portion of his length. Noises rose in his throat, too many for him to swallow them down. Luckily, she seemed willing to forgive the pitiful, muffled hums that escaped into the air between them.

“Do you want me to peel the wax of, or you?” Zola asked softly. “You know it would make me so happy if you did it yourself, but I can help you if you need it hart.”

Smiling a wobbly smile, Daniel shook his head. “I-I can do i-it.” And he could, he _would._ The thought of stopping now was plainly intolerable. He wanted the sweet torture of her heels digging through wax on his cock, he wanted his body pink from being scalded, he wanted _all_ of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola usually dresses masculinely, not because she dislikes presenting femininely, but because feminine clothing is super uncomfortable and impractical in her opinion. Whenever she needs to dress up, she bribes Daniel into sewing something for her to wear, because his dresses are the most comfortable and easy to move in.


	14. Keeping A Trophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty talking, fluff, the least gory response possible to "Keeping A Trophy"

Embroidery was fun. Daniel didn’t care what anyone thought of him over it; if they were dumb enough to judge him for liking embroidery, then they weren’t worth talking to anyway. And besides, he was _good_ at it.

After something good happened, Daniel usually embroidered something to commemorate it. Today it was an eyeball, with nerves forming a tail that slumped beside it and a small pool of blood beneath. It was rather good, in his opinion, but Zola had been giving him dubious glances for the past twenty minutes. Eventually she broke, whining, “When are you gonna show me the finished quilt?”

“When I have enough squares,” Daniel said. He sounded perfectly reasonable, which he knew would only work Zola up more. Hunching his shoulders, Daniel started smiling.

“C’mon, you have to have enough by now!” Daniel kept his attention on his work, looking for all the world like he was ignoring her. “What do I have to do to get you to finish the thing? Do we need like, forty scenes in a week or what?"

Chuckling, Daniel shook his head, never missing a step with his stitching. “I don’t think that’s a realistic goal.”

“Oh yeah?” Something of a purr entered Zola’s voice. “Bet I could do it. We don’t need to sleep or eat, really, and we could use our vacation days. I’d need a stockpile of ideas, though, so Daniel! Help me brainstorm.”

Daniel was too busy blinking in confusion to help _brainstorm._ “Um,” he mumbled. His hands were still going on automatic.

A light laugh sounded from way closer than Daniel had prepared for. Damnit, he had been teasing _her,_ not the other way around. “Daniel,” Zola drew out the syllables of his name into a song. _Daaaaaaaanieeeeeeel._

He kept ignoring her, until he could feel the heat from her against his back. “C’mon,” she teased. “There’s gotta be something you want. Want me to choke you? I could do it special.” Her hand landed on his shoulder, and he shivered. “Instead of grabbing your throat, I could cut open your chest. Do you wanna feel my hands on your lungs, squeezing air in and out?”

 _Oh._ Daniel swallowed convulsively, hands shaking the slightest bit. He fought to get them back under control.

“I could invite some other people to play,” she offered, stroking the back of his neck with a terribly light touch. “You want me to get you some pretty boys? I’m sure I could find some that’re taller than you, it can’t be _that_ hard.” Daniel chuckled again, but then she wiped all the mirth out of his head. “And imagine how happy I’d be, watching them pound into you.”

“Not… fair.” Daniel was having quite a bit of trouble keeping his breathing under control. He set the needle and fabric on the table, thin thread connecting them, and tried not to whimper.

“You know what’s not fair?” Zola squeezed the back of his neck, prompting him to tilt his head to the side. She leaned down, breath brushing the long line of his throat, and said, “You hiding your little quilt from me. Seriously, I’ve seen practically all the squares separately, why not put together?”

Ruefully locking eyes with her, Daniel booped her nose with his fingertip. “Not yet, love.” He’d had to turn his head to look at her straight on, and she wasn’t pressed quite so close to him anymore, but if he played his cards right, then maybe… “You only listed two out of forty ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola wins all of their games of Monopoly. All of them. This is mostly because she cheats, which Daniel finds amusing, especially when the other people in their friend group also cheat in an attempt to beat her and still lose. Daniel has beaten Zola exactly once, and she’s never figured out how.


	15. Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual guro, breathplay, deepthroating, blowjobs.

He just hadn’t been able to decide between the two options. Zola had come to him with one word, _breathplay,_ and somehow Daniel had spend the next several hours wrestling with himself in his head. Because on the one hand, a belt would be so lovely, and he had several that Zola could choose from. On the other hand, with the right knife…

So Daniel had asked for both, and Zola had looked intrigued enough to agree. He didn’t know if they could do both today, especially if he accidentally passed out, but he _hoped._

Zola positioned him on the bed, lying with his head tilted back and off the edge. It was a position that made deepthroating easy, because he’d need all the help he could get while the belt was around his throat. It was black and thick, the leather utterly unyielding when Zola slipped it around his throat like a collar.

“Three taps if you want out,” Zola reminded Daniel, guiding one of his hands to her hip. Her strap on for the day was huge, with plenty of texture and a thick knot that would seal Daniel’s mouth shut entirely. Licking his lips, he nodded.

As she slid the head into his mouth, she tightened the belt. The leather was wrapped around her wrist firmly, and she kept careful control of his breathing. Air whistled through his nose, labored more because of his mounting arousal than because she was choking him.

“Alright,” Zola said when the strap on nudged the entrance of Daniel’s throat and he gagged. “Okay, relax big boy. Swallow for me. Once it’s in, it’s not coming out for a while.”

The awkward angle he was at meant that he couldn’t see the predatory gleam in Zola’s eyes, but he could certainly imagine it. He had to swallow several times before the toy finally slid into his throat, but when it was in he could feel the pressure from the belt meeting the bulge as it slid down. This was the best idea Daniel’d had in _forever._

Pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust, Zola began tightening the belt again. Daniel couldn’t breathe at all anymore, blackness creeping in at the edge of his vision and a dull pain beginning in his chest. His fingers were tingling for want of oxygen.

Like the sweetheart she was, Zola gave him breaks, releasing enough pressure for him to breathe slow and deep and steady. It had taken a lot of practice before Daniel had learned to breathe around a cock in his throat, but he was rather proud of his ability to do so now. Especially with the ache in his neck, the bruising undoubtedly blossoming in a purple ring.

On her next thrust in, Zola drummed the fingers of her free hand beneath Daniel’s chin in a silent warning. Then she pushed harder, stretched his jaw wide and full around the knot at the base of their toy. And now he really _couldn’t_ breathe, belt or not.

 _”Fuck, Daniel,”_ moaned Zola, her thighs shaking a bit. She didn’t want to thrust into his mouth too hard when he was suffocating, but the temptation was obviously there.

Before the world could fade away entirely, Zola was letting go of the belt and pulling back out of Daniel’s mouth. He was so hard he was almost sure he’d have bruises between his legs to match the ones around his throat. When Zola was finally out of his mouth, she leaned down, inspecting his eyes carefully.

“You still wanna do the other thing?” Zola asked, watching the way his chest rose and fall with his huge, heaving breaths. “We can be done sweetness, I don’t mind.”

“Please,” Daniel begged. He knew that was all it would take, with how hoarse his voice already was.

Sure enough, Zola’s pupils blew out wide. “You asked,” Zola warned, though it sounded nothing at all like an actual warning. And then she was grabbing their knife-- a small one, one of their sharpest-- and slashing him across the throat.

It wasn’t a particularly deep or wide cut, but the blood pouring out the sides was thick and bright and hot, and his neck was so _sensitive._ Daniel tried to make a whining sound, but it came out bubbly and _wrong._ There was blood trickling into his mouth from the inside, falling into his lungs as he breathed. It was so similar, the feeling of not being able to get a full breath, and yet entirely different.

“Here we go,” Zola said, giddy and delighted. She held his head steady with both hands, fucked into his mouth with a speed and abandon she hadn’t allowed herself before. If he needed her to stop, he’d let her know.

Daniel didn’t need her to stop at _all._ When she bottomed out in his throat, and then gasped and reached out to his free hand, he thought he couldn’t get more blissed out. But then she pressed his fingers to hot, wet silicone, and he realized that the head was peeking out of the gash in his neck.

His orgasm caught him by surprise, pleasure and pain racing through his veins and pouring out around the intrusion in his throat and he _loved_ it. Zola bucked her hips at the wrecked sounds that spilled from him, but she didn’t stop. He was glad; his hand on her hip was still for a reason. He didn’t want this to end any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola plays roller derby sometimes. She doesn’t use any powers during games, because she likes the simple flesh versus flesh battle. She also doesn’t particularly like playing jammer, but is good at it.


	16. Lacerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self harm, nudes, sexting

That saying about the cat being away was on the tip of Daniel’s tongue. It felt appropriate, with Zola out of town for some kind of business convention-- Daniel neither understood the event, nor cared particularly. What mattered was that he was setting up a fun little surprise.

He still couldn’t really believe he’d gone out and bought a pane of glass just for this. There was no way he was backing out, though; he’d set down a white tarp and stripped to his panties the second he’d arrived home. His heart pounded so hard he swore he could see it moving through his chest.

The sound the glass made when the mallet hit it was so _satisfying._ Daniel was tempted to smash it again, just to hear it, but he had work to do.

Sitting with his long legs splayed out on either side of the jagged shards, Daniel carefully lifted one of the larger pieces. It slid into his thigh smooth as a dream. He whined at the feeling, high and uninhibited, since he was alone in the apartment.

Each glass shard was unique, but their edges were almost universally _sharp._ He rolled his calf through a fine powdering of the smaller ones, resulting in tiny trails of blood flowing from a hundred individual cuts. The large pieces even allowed him to see _into_ his body, if he could angle the light right, and he never tired of watching the way his muscles gave way beneath the unrelenting pressure of his hand.

When there were only a few of shards left, he moved on to his arms. The clean slices on his forearms were so satisfying, he jostled the glass a few times just to feel the stinging.

His phone buzzed right on time, and Daniel grinned widely. He had to wipe his hands on a small towel to stop from smearing blood over the touchscreen, but when he saw Zola’s **what’s up lovely** text on the screen he found himself scrambling to respond.

Daniel turned on the camera app and posed, a shy smile on his face and slightly bent legs hiding his cock. **I’m playing** he sent her. He was nearly vibrating waiting for her response.

In a second she sent back **oh,** and then **what can i do to gain the privilege of seeing more ; )**

Laughing, Daniel posed again. This time he went up on his hands and knees, struggling to angle the camera right. He personally thought his ass was a bit too flat to be hot, but he knew that Zola liked the sight of it smeared with blood, framed by glass sticking out of the sides of his thighs. **Nothing. It’s a free service until you get back.**

 **in that case, can i make requests ; P** He hesitated, because it really was tempting. He loved Zola ordering him around, and yet there was something about the playful mood that the glass had put him in that made him want to push back.

 **Nope.** A shot of him licking blood on his forearm, kittenish and cute. Teasing definitely had its upsides.

Next he splayed his legs wide, showing off the milky expanse of skin between them, only interrupted by his lacy panties and trickles of sanguine. He was so caught up in how cute he looked, the tip of his cock peeking out bright pink and half covered by foreskin, that he nearly missed his phone buzzing. **aw, please i’m stuck in boring panels all day! you’re gonna leave your girlfriend all worked up with no outlet!! gotta give me at least one treat**

 **I gave you several.** Daniel sent the picture, then posed for another. He _loved_ this. The attention on him, the freedom from embarrassment and anxiety that sometimes caught up to him even with Zola. And of course, the twinges while he shifted into new positions were lovely as always. He was absolutely going to do this again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: It’s incredibly rare for either Daniel or Zola to safeword. At first, Zola was afraid that Daniel would refuse out of fear of disappointing her. Later, Daniel worried that Zola would refuse to safeword out of a false perception of dominants “not needing it.” They’ve since talked out their issues, like good, responsible ocs.


	17. Monster Features

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy, scratching, spanking, and tum mouths because hoooo boy I'm gross.

Why did choosing a monster have to be so hard? Daniel had finally, finally decided on shapeshifting himself into a faun, but the decision had been bittersweet. There were just so many good creatures he could’ve become, and they didn’t do this often at all.

“I like it,” Zola said, petting his velvet-covered, sharp-tipped antlers. “It’s cute and fuzzy, and it makes you even taller.”

She had decided on a demoness, mostly because she knew it would drive Daniel crazy. Thick, black ram horns spiraled from her head, but they weren’t what Daniel was focused on. He was too busy staring at her talons, and the-- the--

Laughing, Zola stretched her arms over her head, showing off the huge mouth in her stomach. Its teeth were all pointed, built for shredding, and the tongue that lolled out of it was _huge._

“You’re teasing me,” he whined. Sure enough, Zola only winked at him in response.

With her sitting on a chair, she loomed over him in a way she never did otherwise. “Can you feel these?” She asked, trailing her nails along the length of the antlers.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. It tingled, and felt nice, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She clearly knew that, with the way one of her taloned feet was sliding up and down his thigh, pricking him through the fur. It was already wet and dotted sparsely with blood, but it _wasn’t enough._

“Okay impatient one, c’mon up,” Zola said finally. Daniel tried to climb into her lap, but she flicked him in one drooping faun ear. “Lay across my lap,” she ordered, smile sharper on her face than usual.

Daniel swallowed hard, then scrambled to obey, his heart pounding at the thought of being so close to that _mouth._ His lanky body seemed built for draping over her soft thighs, and she sighed contentedly when he was finally settled. “There’s a good boy,” she said, fingertips teasing his tail. He wiggled it in response, Zola’s laughter like music to his ears.

The first line of scratches down his back was a total surprise. Her talons opened his skin easily, welts weeping blood in seconds, and he cried out in shock. Pain thrilled through him, and he swore he could almost feel the rush of endorphins. “Fuck,” he moaned.

His legs started kicking the third time she scratched him, hooves meeting nothing but air. Zola tutted at him, kneading his abused back in a parody of a massage as she did. “Here, scoot up,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. Daniel awkwardly obeyed, wiggling until he felt damp heat on his side, and the skin of Zola’s belly split open.

That _mouth._ She had maneuvered him so that she could lock her teeth around his side, points digging in and tongue sliding out to stroke his belly.

It would be so easy for her to just rip a chunk out of him, but instead her hand stroked his ass thoughtfully. “Stay still, if you can,” she said. And then she started spanking him, strokes that felt muffled through the fur but _good,_ and even _better_ when she followed it with more scratches.

Cock slowly coming out of its furry sheath, Daniel relaxed into the slick hold Zola had on him. Keeping his legs still was difficult, even more so when she started scraping her talons against the backs of his thighs, but he didn’t mind. He would do it for _hours_ if she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: They've both played d&d, though Daniel got more into it than Zola did. Daniel loves being fully in character, Zola likes trolling other players (but is competitive enough to help out in order to win each campaign).


	18. Power Tools

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonsexual, 100% consensual, and crucifixion jokes.

A nail gun was not among the first thing Daniel thought of when he was trying to come up with new plans for their scenes. But Zola had thought it up, because of his “preferred cuss words” (not that he actually preferred any, and he wasn’t sure why she thought so), and now here he was splayed out on the ground. The backs of his hands were flattened to the ground, the bottoms of his feet pressing down beneath his bent knees.

The first nail was a sudden screech of pain up his left arm, the loud _bang_ of the gun drowning out his gasp. Zola stroked his forearm until he stopped shaking, giving him the contact he needed to calm enough to keep his hand splayed, not trying to fist against the pressure of the nail.

His other hand was no easier, but somehow the feet were; he could arch his hips off the ground when she nailed them down, his whole body bowing away from the pain. It was strange, that he could love the feeling so much and instinct would still dictate he try to escape it.

Luckily, his Love knew how much he wanted it. She pet his stomach when he finally slumped back to the ground, playful light in her eyes. “Know why I wanted to nail you down?” She asked.

Swallowing hard, Daniel shook his head. His lungs felt shaken and rough, and he didn’t think he could speak just yet. She didn’t expect him to, though, instead holding up a power drill and tapping the trigger with her finger. _oh._

Something like yawning hunger opened in Daniel’s belly at the sight of the spinning drill bit. He _wanted_ it, and Zola clearly knew it. She was looking over his body consideringly, though she lingered on his gut and arms. He knew that she would leave his lungs alone, since they’d never done this before and she wasn’t sure if he’d need to safeword. He was pretty sure he was going to enjoy this, though.

Sure enough, she went for lower stomach. Instead of simply driving the drill down, though, she used carefully controlled motions to drag the spinning bit along the surface of his skin. It twisted, burned with friction and tore violently, and Daniel was arching into it before he could think.

Zola pulled away with a tsking sound, her palm resting on his chest and forcing him back down. “If you want it inside you, ask.”

“P-please,” said Daniel immediately. “Please, I do w-want it inside me, so badly.”

Surprise flitted across Zola’s face, but it was quickly chased away by a sadistic _delight_ that sent shivers down Daniel’s spine. “Well, in that case.”

She set the tip down again, in the middle of the long streak she’d drawn across his middle. This time, though, she did exactly what he expected, pushing the spinning bit straight into his guts. He had a sudden mental image of it wrapping up his intestines like spaghetti around a fork, and the way they were moving inside him, worming around, he could almost believe it.

Drilling was different from the other kinds of pain he’d experienced. It radiated, but it also felt a bit like the pain in the rest of his body was being sucked into a single point. What did his bloody hands and feet matter, when his organs were being shredded? He yanked on his limbs, felt flesh tearing and didn’t care, it hurt it hurt but _”Jesus!”_

“That’s what I thought,” Zola said. She sounded so pleased and almost mocking. Daniel wanted to ask what she meant, but he was so wrapped up in the pain, consumed by it, he didn’t think he could speak again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: They do radically different stuff for Valentine’s day depending on their moods. They’ve had insanely fancy dinners, insanely fancy scenes, or quiet nights in. Their personal favorite dates have been a LOtR marathon and sneaking into an amusement park, though.


	19. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noncon, domestic abuse, murder, suicidal thoughts

He was scrambling to get away, nails coming up bloody from his fingers as they scraped against the ground. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? That delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. Except this wasn’t _delicious_ and the pain wasn’t what Daniel had asked for at all.

It was only a nightmare.

“You like that, slut? Maybe you’ll finally _behave_ when I’m done fucking you.”

Daniel wanted to respond, but the hand on his throat was unrelenting. Each choked breath rattled in his chest. There was _blood_ dripping down his legs, between them, not knife wounds this time. Not a cane not a whip not any of those toys Daniel normally looked at with hunger.

Just a cock, pounding into him over and over, proving that preparation really was optional if you were a big enough painslut. Daniel wasn’t sure, though, he was hard but he felt nauseous and it had _never been like this before._ His boyfriend had gotten violent, in ways that left Daniel shaking and crying and so far into a subdrop he was almost sure he’d never get out. But it had never been this bad before.

What was his boyfriend’s name? He couldn’t remember. He should be able to, the man was pounding him into hardwood like it was his birthright. Why couldn’t he…?

“God, I hate you. I was a decent fucking person before you came along. Now look. At. Me.”

The last three words were punctuated with sharp thrusts that had Daniel’s eyes rolling back in his head. His nose was running, tears and snot clogging up everything, and it wasn’t helping him feel less like he was suffocating one bit. Suddenly, it occurred to Daniel that he could die like this.

No one would go looking for him. No one would care.

His boyfriend let go of Daniel’s throat when he came, though, and then he was pulling out and standing on unsteady feet. It was over. He was sure it was over.

A scream ripped out of Daniel’s throat when the first kick landed. He couldn’t make any noise at the second. Something in his chest had cracked, and his breathing went hiccupy and short, he couldn’t-- couldn’t--

In a nice house in the suburbs, Daniel died. He died thinking of beauty and guillotines, and how he kind of wished he’d gotten the guts to swallow the pills in the bathroom. He died thinking of hunting and the shape of a deer’s neck as it bent around the intrusion of an arrow. He died wishing that, if his ending had to be so abrupt and violent, it could have at least been beautiful.

He woke up sweating, eyes wide and aching. A spindly hand clutched at his chest like a pale spider in the darkness, Zola still fast asleep beside him. She had a small smile on her lips.

Zola didn’t remember her death. Some gods _never_ remembered their deaths. Some of them remembered, but were so different now that it hardly mattered. But Daniel-- Daniel had looked so similar. Same long hair, brown eyes that looked too sleepy the way his purple ones did now. Altogether too similar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: The most expensive item in either of their apartments are their knives. They own antiques, hand-made works of art, cutting edge technology (literally), anything they can get their hands on. Knifeplay is their favorite.


	20. Gunshot Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-consensual, non-sexual guro

They were just goofing off. It was well past two a.m. on a weeknight, and they hadn’t been making much noise, so they’d figured no one would mind much. They were way too used to city attitudes, it turned out.

“Y’all only get one warning shot!” Daniel heard. He was halfway through turning around when the gun went off, and it wasn’t a _warning_ shot.

His whole shoulder was a mass of blinding pain, so bad that only Zola’s hand in his kept him from falling over. He heard two cries of alarm, one achingly familiar from Zola and the other from the idiot who’d just shot him accidentally, but he himself couldn’t make a sound. His throat had closed up, and as numbness spread down his arm he could feel himself panicking.

She half pulled, half dragged him away, her hand clammy with sweat. Everything smelled like fear and blood, drowning out the pleasant hay scent that had filled the air before. Blind with pain, Daniel could only follow her lead, and hope that the human didn’t follow.

Ducking around the corner of the barn, Zola sat Daniel down and leaned him against the worn wood. It was warm outside, but he’d broken out in a cold sweat, same as her. Every time he moved his head his hair caught in the bloody, mangled mess of his shoulder, sending sharp points of pain through him. Despite his numb arm, his shoulder still burned horribly.

“Oh fuck,” Zola choked out, hands hovering over Daniel’s arm. “Don’t look at it, Daniel. Just breathe.”

Of course, the moment she gave the order, his eyes flickered down. And once he’d glanced he couldn’t stop _staring,_ because a significant portion of his arm was _gone._ Blood was splattered all down one side of his body, and it was pooling in his limp fingertips, leaving them bruise-purple. Breathing was awfully hard to do.

 _”Daniel!”_ Zola gripped his chin, forcing him to stare straight at her. Her green eyes were very bright and ringed with white in the darkness. “Breathe. Slowly.”

In and out. He tried to match her breathing, but it was difficult, pain distracting him. He hadn’t been able to prepare himself for this, it had blindsided him and left him reeling, and his heart wouldn’t slow its pounding. Each beat pumped more blood from the wound.

Zola’s high, frightened voice pulled him from the panic he’d been spiraling into again. “Well,” she said. “Guess my gunplay idea will have to be shelved.” She sounded shrill and a little hysterical, but the thought, ironically, helped.

This was Zola. She was right here, pressed to his front, worried and loving. He could do this. He could breathe. Syncing with the rise and fall of her chest, Daniel allowed his one good shoulder to relax from its protective hunch. It was okay. He was a god, and something like this wouldn’t kill him. Focusing long enough to heal himself to stability was going to be a pain in the ass, though.

“We-we could still, ugh, do something,” Daniel forced a smile. “Handguns aren’t at all like shotguns.” If his chuckle was a bit crazy sounding, it didn’t matter. Zola smiled back, and he thought to himself, _well, it could’ve gone worse._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Despite the fact that neither technically needs to bathe, they both like to. Zola enjoys brightly-colored bath bombs and bubble bath, Daniel likes fancy hair-care products and tests them each time something new comes out


	21. Other Bodily Fluid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual gore, fingers inside tummies, cum inflation.

The two of them had gotten creative with shapeshifting before, but it had never been quite this _fun._ Nor had it ever been quite this challenging, but Daniel had decided about half an hour ago that the challenge was worth it.

For the past two hours, Zola had had Daniel pinned to the ground with ten fingers firmly planted in his belly. Her nails weren’t any sharper than usual, but the magical strength in them was certainly inhuman. Occasionally they shifted, moving organically amongst his organs in a way that made his cock dribble pathetic little drips of come.

He wasn’t capable of producing any more come without concerted effort on his part, anymore. Zola had shapeshifted four hands for a reason; one of the two that wasn’t buried in his stomach was instead fucking his hole, slow and steady. Whenever she dipped deep enough to massage his prostate, he _keened._

“Again,” she ordered. She sounded amused, but didn’t relent even when Daniel whined long and desperate.

With a force of will he didn’t know he had, Daniel’s cock went hard again, magic leaving his sore and spent balls heavy once again. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle this. Each orgasm was like a brand against his raw nerves.

Daniel didn’t ever want it to stop. Zola seemed just as happy to gather up the puddle of cooling come on Daniel’s stomach with her last hand and feed it to him. She’d been doing it all night, to the point where Daniel’s stomach was starting to look distended. Not that it took much, what with how thin he normally was.

“Think we could make you look pregnant, like this?” Zola asked, hand massaging gently just above where her fingers disappeared into him in bloody holes.

“W-w-would you,” Daniel bit his tongue, then tried again. “I want th-that, w-would you…?”

Smiling all sharklike and delighted, Zola said, “Yep.” Then she twisted her fingers again, and rolled the pads against the place that had him seeing stars. Once again, come bubbled out of his cock, and he wondered if it was possible to rub his urethra raw.

Come-covered fingers dipped into his lolling mouth, painted over his tongue in teasing strokes. Daniel swallowed, a shudder running through his body at the bitter flavor. He’d started off sweet, but now there was no trace of the fruit juice he’d drunk anymore. He could feel the warm, viscous stuff all the way down his throat, oddly soothing.

Zola eyed him critically, then said, “Again.”

It took a solid five minutes, but Daniel’s cock twitched to life once more. He wondered if Zola knew how close he was to the breaking point, but the way he was shaking like a leaf was probably a pretty good clue. “Good job,” Zola said brightly. “I love watching your face while you eat your own come. We’re _definitely_ not done yet.”

“Jesus,” Daniel swore, his own hands coming up to cradle his swollen stomach. It was so much warmer than his trembling hands, rising and falling with his breaths. “You’re g-gonna t-take me apart.”

“That’s the idea,” Zola said. Her fingers in his guts shifted again, a renewed trickle of blood escaping the seal of her flesh against his to drip down his side. Every time he shifted, he could feel the dried blood cracking and flaking off. “But don’t worry. I’ll be right here to put you back together again, in the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Despite the fact that neither technically needs to bathe, they both like to. Zola enjoys brightly-colored bath bombs and bubble bath, Daniel likes fancy hair-care products and tests them each time something new comes out.


	22. Bloody and beaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual guro, flogging, unusually close to SSC

Baton or flogger? Flogger or baton? Zola rarely left it entirely up to him; usually either he would come up with an idea and surprise her, or she would plan the whole thing. But today she’d set out both toys side by side, and told him, “Choose.”

On the one hand, the baton was wonderful, and they rarely played with it. The solid impact could rattle his brain in his skull, and sometimes Zola pressed it into his mouth and fucked him with it, hard and unforgiving. On the other, the flogger was beautiful, both in the thick black tails with knots tied in the ends, and in the stripes it would leave across his back.

“Flogger,” Daniel decided, picking up the toy and handing it to Zola.

Eyes shining, Zola nodded. “Good choice,” she said, weighing the flogger in her hands. “This’ll be _fun._ ”

She had him hold onto a bar they had mounted into the wall. Normally, she’d tie him up, but today she wanted him to stay standing and grounded on his own. It would be a challenge, but sometimes Daniel liked to see what he could push his body to do. 

His back was already warmed from the massage she’d given him earlier, so after the first couple of practice swings _swished_ through the air, Zola wasted no time. Initially the blows thudded into him heavily, pain washing through him in gentle waves. He loved the bone-deep bruises this flogger could induce, if Zola really put her back into it. Not yet, though; for now, she was steady and measured.

Slowly building up more and more force, Zola set a punishing rhythm. Daniel kept his breathing in time with her strikes, knowing that the flogger could drive the air from his lungs. It lulled him, the steady, pounding pain like a lullaby, but he kept his knees straight and his hands firm.

All of a sudden Zola’s arm came down with more force than her body could’ve possibly used. The knotted ends of the tails hit him hard enough to break skin, bright red welts beading with blood. Daniel moaned, then started panting, losing the rhythm of his breathing entirely. Zola’s small hand rested between his shoulderblades, a tiny shock of pain and pressure, and she said, “Color?”

“G-green,” Daniel answered. “As green as your hair.”

Zola snorted, stepped back again, and didn’t answer out loud. She simply went back to hitting him, over and over, building again until-- _there,_ and his weeping welts were dripping wetness in sticky patches that were so much more pleasant than the sweat drying on his skin.

Over and over she repeated the pattern, until she was breathing harder than Daniel was. He was bruised from the tops of his shoulders down to his thighs, his ass having been given special attention when Zola had determined that his shoulders were becoming desensitized. All of his muscles felt like jelly, his mind floating and sated and happy.

“You look so good like this,” Zola said when she gently peeled his fingers off of the bar. “You’re gonna be bruised for _days._ I love knowing I put my mark on you.” Daniel was rapidly becoming too sleepy to respond, but he smiled anyway. He’d definitely picked correctly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: As the author, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit this, but I frequently forget the tiny details in their characterization. I’ll be going through and editing out any inconsistencies later though, don’t worry!


	23. Surreal Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death and decomposition, dismemberment, my nerdiness about fae mythology

He felt a bit like he was in a fishbowl. His hair was weightless, and when he blinked his eyes open the world was bent around him. Bent and dark and beautiful.

Wherever he was, it wasn’t quite _his,_ not the ethereal domain gods could inhabit a half step off from reality, and not the ground he knew and loved from lazy days spent with Zola. No, this was different, same half step but different _feel._ Was he still solid?

His hand was ghostly in the darkness in front of him, but yes, it was there. His skin was spongy and strange, not burned-- he was _cold._ So cold, and moving. Why was he moving?

Daniel’s hair was squid ink in the water, leading the way deeper. Far, far above, light shone through cracks in the steep stone walls. Layer after layer after layer sanded away by the current, the current-- where was it taking him?

Blood swirled through the water, but Daniel couldn’t smell it. Could he taste it? His body was broken. Was his nose broken? He was sure it was his blood, because he couldn’t see anyone else in the water. No, no there was, deep down below him, whisking past and caught on an outcropping of rock, but they were bones. Only bones.

A vacation to a beautiful place was not meant to end this way.

There was something in the deep, something malicious and mean. It wasn’t laughing at his pain, but it wasn’t surprised either. It wanted him down there until he drowned. Down and drown and down and drown again until he stayed _down._

Vision going black again, Daniel drowned. But he didn’t die, and something was _angry._

It took him hours, days, months or years to realize he was the one that was angry. That evil thing was bored, was only furious as long as it took to dash Daniel against enough stones to break every bone in his body. Daniel had healed, and the thing was bored. So Daniel healed again because of drowning, because of the way skin dissolves like slow motion rot in water.

Every inch of him hated every moment of it and he couldn’t find a way _out._ Between the long stretches of nothingness he reached his arm out, wedged it into the gap between stones and hoped it would stop the current from pulling him further.

Instead, his arm broke off entirely. He screamed water from his lungs and _hated._

Creativity. What a dull concept, in a place where magic stuck to the walls like poison algae or oil slick. It clung to every inch of him and _wouldn’t let him go,_ it wanted him dead the way the thing wanted him dead. Disgusting stuff.

Singing rang in Daniel’s ears when the rush of water paused, a hallucination too vivid and unfamiliar to be entirely in his head. _Young Romilly through Barden Woods…_

Legs like anchors. Hair so many pounds of dead. Sightless eyes and chipped teeth and lungs like fifty hard resets. _Is ranging high and low…_

“And holds a greyhound in a leash,” said something beneath him. “To let slip upon buck or doe. You’re neither, but you are a deer, aren’t you.” There was no answer. “Not that it matters. Come along now.

“I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel’s favorite organ is the heart, but after the events in Medical they can’t mess with it for a while. His second favorite is eyeball.


	24. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glove kink, compound fractures, and debatably nonsexual consensual guro!

“Three, two, _one.” Crunch!_

Daniel moaned through the ball gag, eyes scrunching shut around the pain. He could feel saliva dribbling out of his mouth, tears running down his cheeks. His arm was wet too, hot and nearly sopping, and he forced his eyes open to look at it.

The jagged spike of his broken bone was pinkish and pointy and entirely too small. He couldn’t really communicate that he wanted another, _worse,_ with his mouth occupied as it was. So instead he looked up at Zola with something begging in his eyes and hoped that she understood.

Smiling and stroking his cheek with one gloved hand, Zola said, “I know baby boy. We need to warm you up a bit, is all.”

 _You warmed me up already,_ Daniel wanted to say. He couldn’t, though, not when the only communication he was allowed was the squeaky ball in his hand. And squeezing that would mean an end to their activities, which he really, really didn’t want. Already she was reaching for his shin, stroking his ankle and knee and--

 _Crack!_ Oh god yes, it was thick and his skin split around it in a wide yawn, it felt so _good_. Daniel was continuously making sounds, sweet things he barely recognized as coming from him.

Zola trailed her fingertips in a circle around the compound fracture, loving and gentle. “That was your tibia,” she said brightly. “And the first one was your radius. What’s next? Your femur? Do you think I can get a clean break on that, or will it be too hard, hm?”

He nodded eagerly, drops of saliva coming off of his messy face. Zola only laughed, toying with his femur instead of touching his thigh. He could feel the bone jarring all down its length when she flicked the exposed tip, but it wasn’t what he wanted. His thighs shook, his spine arched towards her, yet she looked so composed and amused.

“You’ll get what you want,” she promised, “Once I’ve had my fun.” Daniel whined, his spit bubbling up around the ball gag again. He wanted it _now._

Instead Zola touched his arm again, bending it at it’s brand new joint. She seemed fascinated with the way it hung limply, but Daniel’s fingers were already going numb. The promise of fresh pain, of the strongest part of his body breaking under her hands, was so tantalizing.

She didn’t give him any warning. Just brought her hands down, hard and unforgiving, leather coating them and making the touch just this side of _impersonal._ His thigh was a sudden burst of fire and agony, so much that he could barely hear Zola’s muttered, “Impatient.”

Adoration plain in his eyes, he looked up at her, and she softened under his gaze. “Love you too,” she said, wrapping her hand around the bone sticking out of his thigh.

Before he could fully register that there was enough bone there for her to grab it, she _yanked,_ and the shudder that wracked his body was everything he’d hoped. It was wonderful, amazing, and he didn’t care if he was forgetting to congeal his blood extra quickly. His head could go fuzzy with blood loss for all he cared; this moment had been hot enough to last _ages._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola loves fizzy sodas! The only carbonated drink Daniel really likes is champaign.


	25. Crushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sfw, nonsexual guro, blunt force trauma

What were the chances of this kind of thing happening? Pretty close to nil, unless someone had cursed him. He didn’t have any enemies he could think of off the top of his head, though.

It was strange, how his head could go so clear the moments before the pain hit.

Someone was screaming, and for once Daniel was fairly certain it wasn’t him. Yeah, there she was, a human with both hands covering her mouth as if they could muffle the piercing sound. A bit of his blood had splattered on her leg, but she didn’t seem to care, eyes locked on Daniel’s prone form.

Apparently club speakers were really, really heavy. Who knew? Daniel certainly didn’t, and if Zola had she’d clearly not given it much thought. Thirty seconds ago, she’d been having a great time, bouncing around in a crop top that showed off her strapless bra and made Daniel’s mouth water. Now, though, she looked halfway to stunned.

“Z-Zo--” Daniel coughed up a mouthful of blood. The speaker had pinned him awkwardly, one leg bent up under it and most of his middle crushed beneath the weight.

At the sound of his voice Zola dropped to her knees, worry flickering over her face before she told him, “Breathe.” Just like she always did when something went horribly wrong.

Obeying the order was way more challenging than it should’ve been, but Daniel _needed_ to tell her something. So he sucked in huge, gasping breaths that felt like they did nothing, and said between gritted teeth. “C-curse.”

Blood was pooling beneath him, leaking from a dozen abrasions that he couldn’t begin to find. Was his broken leg even still _attached?_ And the look on Zola’s face wasn’t helping him either, something dark growing in her eyes like fury, and then the slow spread of a sadistic smile.

Usually, that smile meant very nice things for Daniel. For anyone else, though…

“Who did this?” Zola asked, petting his hair carefully. She seemed oblivious to the milling of people behind her, cellphones out to call 911. “Sweetheart, do you know?”

“N-n-n,” the vowel escaped him, but all Zola needed was that one letter. _No._ Her smile was sharp like a blade, and her teeth were sharper. A human jaw could exert 265 pounds of force. Zola could exert quite a bit more.

“Okay,” said Zola. “Don’t worry about it, dearest. I’ll take care of it.” Sure enough, the panic around them seemed to pause for a moment, and then she was lifting the speaker off of him and laying it about a foot to the right.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he should be worried about how she was planning on _taking care of it._ In the moment, it was so tempting to lie there, to let her handle everything, but they were _gods._ If Zola decided to do something, er, unsubtle, it could end so badly.

As she gathered Daniel up in her arms, it occurred to him that he was shivering. Ah, shock. That explained some things. “As soon as you’re safe,” Zola said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Yeah, his body was truly wrecked at the moment. It would take _hours_ to heal this, hours and energy he didn’t have. His chest was dented in, his leg an unresponsive lump hanging from his body. He wasn’t sure if he had a choice about letting her take care of it or not, so he might as well relax into her arms. She was so warm and soft. It was hard to believe something would go wrong, when she cradled him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel was totally right and he is cursed, by the way. It’s a powerful one, too. Zola didn’t actually get to kill anyone, since, y’know, gods, but she did end up rather bloody at one point. After that, the god of nature that had cursed Daniel backed off damn fast.


	26. Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sfw, death, mentions of past abuse?

“You sure you want me here?” Zola asked, looking around the clearing nervously. They were just off of a hiking path, near a posh neighborhood Daniel had had a hell of a time tracking down.

“Yeah,” he answered. He could _feel_ the death ahead of them, and he knew she could too. There was absolutely no way he was going to be able to handle it without her there.

She was unusually subdued, but it felt appropriate. They walked forward together, towards a space between two trees where the ground looked disturbed. It had been too long for that to be Daniel’s ex’s fault; it must have been some scavengers. Daniel shivered.

They had brought shovels, but it turned out that the grave was so shallow it hardly mattered. The corpse took bare minutes to uncover, and then Daniel was staring down at it.

He couldn’t really think of it as _himself._ There wasn’t much flesh left on it, and the bones that he could see were greasy looking. At least the sickly sweet smell wasn’t too strong, he reflected. Puking over his own corpse was a level of freaky he really didn’t want to reach.

There were tree roots wrapping through his ribcage. It gave him an idea, so he crouched down, clearing some of the dirt away from the bones (though he tried his hardest not to touch them directly because, ew). Zola looked at him curiously, but he waved her away when she knelt to help. He could do this on his own.

When he could see all of his bones clearly, barring hands and feet and one of his thighs-- an animal must have carried it off-- Daniel set his palms against the soil and sighed. He could do this.

To his surprise, it was black-eyed susans that pushed their way up. They bloomed thick and bright and pretty, and Zola sighed at the color, but a piece of Daniel felt almost _bereft._ Yellow against the few remaining, purple locks clinging to his head. It clashed horribly. And black-eyed susans were so _common._

With a jolt, Daniel realized that the body-- _his body--_ was common. It was just another human corpse in the woods. There were a hundred like it every year, and sure it usually made the news, but at the end of the day it was just a body.

Looking up at Zola, Daniel felt a smile begin to grow on his face. Because he wasn’t common anymore, because she was here with him, because there were flowers in front of him and a soft hand resting in his hair. “You never stop amazing me, you know that?” Zola said.

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed. She was looking at the flowers, not at him, but something told him this was harder for her than she’d let on. “Yeah, I know.”

Zola flicked the top of his head without even looking. “Humble,” she joked. Her voice only wavered a little.

“Very.” Daniel took her hand in his, held it so gently that she might not notice the way he smeared dirt onto her palm. “You’re amazing too, you know.”

Daniel listened to her breathing, steadying and deep. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do.” Her hand squeezed his, and he decided that he didn’t mind his past so much. It still hurt, and probably always would, but it wasn’t him anymore. Humans couldn’t make flowers grow like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel likes bleu cheeses and american cheese. Zola teases him over the fact that his taste seems to be reserved for “fancy as fuck” or “cheap as hell,” but her favorites are just whatever’s most pungent, so she’s one to talk.


	27. Tied Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual impaling, suspension bondage, pretentious nerds.

Right when he’d walked into the house, Zola had pounced on him with the blindfold. Of course, he knew why, but the pictures online definitely hadn’t done the actual sculpture justice. Part of him wanted to see it, still, but being in the dark… it was heady.

She had tied him up economically, leaving him suspended by his ankles and wrists. The pose felt elegant, with his belly facing the ground and his toes pointed. Zola had turned him into a work of art, and even unable to see it that would have ordinarily been enough for Daniel. But today was special, and the anticipation only grew as he heard the dull, scraping sound of Zola positioning the statue under him.

“Ready?” She asked, resting a small hand in the middle of his back. The way his spine was bent meant that her hand was cradled in the arch, and he could feel a catlike purr rising in his throat.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. Zola had a way of controlling the ropes so smoothly, even with Daniel’s weight resting in them. He slid downwards with slow inevitability, until he felt it.

Tiny, sharp points resting against his body in clusters. The tips of antlers. The thing was _huge,_ with the highest point resting against his breastbone and the lowest at the top of his thigh. The way it spanned his body, the fact that he knew how each point would curve, had him shivering hard.

Zola let him down even slower after that, allowing the almost ticklish pressure of the points to progress into prickling, and then pain when they broke his skin. He had to fight to stay very still, not wanting to scrape the points along his flesh. No, he wanted clean entry wounds, bright red, perfect circles in his flesh.

“Make yourself heavier,” Zola ordered quietly. “Go slow, so I can adjust. There you go darling.”

His breathing huffed loudly into the room. “Okay,” he said, just to give his mouth something to do. And then again, “Okay.”

Half a pound. One pound. A pound and a half. He tried to increase it smoothly, but it was so hard, with the pain at once anchoring him and distracting him. It was much easier when he focused on the raw ache where the ropes dug in, but it was never exactly easy.

The moment he was heavy enough that his own weight could force the steel through his bones, he _knew_ it. Zola must have known it too, because without any signal she started lowering him once more. Daniel stopped adjusting his weight, but it didn’t matter. The thin spikes pierced him in sudden bursts, all the more painful for the steady rate Zola lowered him at.

He could feel his breathing picking up even further as the shafts of steel widened. He was near hyperventilating, but he couldn’t stop it. His blood was slipping down, making the metal hot and slick. He almost felt like he was heating up himself, and it was _wonderful,_ like he could get drunk on the feeling alone.

Daniel couldn’t keep from shaking, the next time Zola stopped lowering him. Admittedly, there wasn’t much further he could go; the curve of the statue was getting to the point where his body would stop lowering on its own. Zola had probably stopped lowering him to keep the tension on the rope, but those last few inches were almost intoxicating in their temptation.

Tying the rope off, Zola took Daniel’s cheeks in both hands. His head had hung limply when he’d lost control of his body, but he lifted it when she nudged him. “There you go,” she said. “I’ve got a treat for you.”

Then she tugged the blindfold off of him, and he was staring at her smiling face. The lights were dimmed, no doubt so she wouldn’t blind him. He was about to thank her when he saw it.

A huge mirror, propped against the wall behind her. It gave him a very, _very_ clear view of what he looked like, impaled on the giant set of steel antlers. And gods but he looked good, blood pooling at the base and trickling down the shiny metal. His trembling got worse, but his choked “F-fuck,” was impossible to misinterpret.

“Thought you’d like it,” said Zola. “We could leave you like this for _hours,_ my lovely art piece.”

“That--” Daniel’s voice was hoarse, but it didn’t get any better when he cleared his throat. Ah well, he wasn’t a musical art piece. “That would be nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Both Daniel and Zola like anchovies and pineapples on their pizza. They pretty much end up being the only ones to eat from any pie they order.


	28. Rearranged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual guro, role reversal, safewording

_This_ had never happened before.

Daniel stared at Zola, at his own wide, purple eyes. They never looked that surprised on his face, but that _was_ his hooked nose, and his narrow chin, and his long hair. “Well, this is supremely weird,” Zola said, in his voice but not in his voice at the same time.

“Did you even know this was possible?” Daniel asked, thoroughly confused and not a little disturbed by how high his voice was. At least he was more comfortable than he usually felt; his elbows no longer dug into his knees like stalagmites on stalactites.

“Nope!” Zola answered honestly. “And I’m not entirely sure how to switch back. Oops.”

“We could reverse engineer the experiment? Go ethereal again, and mix ourselves up again, and see if we just switch back?”

“Yep, we could do that.” Zola grinned widely, the expression entirely too creepy on Daniel’s face. “But first, I kinda wanna try another experiment.”

The look on her face didn’t really leave much room for false assumptions of what the new experiment might be. “Erm,” Daniel looked down at her body, at how soft and gentle she looked curled up. “Yeah, we can try that.”

He almost regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but Zola’s expression said loud and clear that she was getting _ideas._ Considering her last idea had left them in the wrong bodies Daniel was a bit leery, but he was willing to follow her lead for now.

Zola had dashed off already, running to their bedroom with no small amount of enthusiasm. She came back with one of their many knives, though this one was one of the smallest. In her other hand, she had loops of green rope they rarely used. Fine, why not?

Maneuvering him with an ease born of months of practice, Zola tied him into a tortoiseshell body rig. It wasn’t restrictive at all, but Daniel liked the way it looked, especially on her body. He didn’t have any desire to see Zola submit, per se, it was just that the color of the rope and the way it interrupted the smooth rolls of her body was beautiful.

His back hit their coarse carpet, and then Zola was straddling him, a much slighter weight than usual but so concentrated, all hard angles. The light in her eyes was bright, less curious and more manic, the way she usually only got midway through a scene, if at all.

With a single, quiet laugh, Zola lowered the knife to Daniel’s skin. She started much the way they usually did, leaving shallow cuts over the swell of his-- her-- breasts. She didn’t seem focused on creating any kind of pattern, instead leaving straight, occasionally crisscrossing lines.

But all of a sudden she turned the knife, plunged it into his skin between his ribs. It left him writhing beneath her, but his movements were small and docile, and didn’t slow her down in the slightest.

She stabbed him again and again, hardly giving him time to acclimate. The pain was good, but something about it was bothering him, tickling the back of his mind. Of course, it was hard to focus on a slight tickle when there were sharp punctures in his body.

When he locked eyes with Zola, though, he realized what it was. His voice was trembling, but he still managed to say, “Zola, what, ah, c-color?”

Suddenly Zola froze. All that moved were her eyes, blinking rapidly. “Red,” she said, sounding mildly horrified. “Shit.”

Instead of asking what had happened in her head, though Daniel wanted to know so badly, because everything had seemed like it was going so _well,_ but he could tell from her expression that now wasn’t the time. For now all he needed to do was take the knife from her hands, wrap her in a hug that was too tender for Zola’s body, and focus on healing his wounds. The sooner she didn’t have to see the wounds, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: When drunk, Daniel gets even more lethargic and calm than normal. He basically oozes around rather than walking. Zola, on the other hand, sometimes literally bounces off the walls. It doesn’t help that she likes drinks mixed with coke.


	29. Under the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hand trauma, flaying, tendons, hooks where hooks usually do not go.

Neither of them actually knew much about tendons, anatomically speaking. Zola had seen plenty, and Daniel knew the bare minimum from a drawing class he’d taken, but neither of them actually understood how they worked. Which was why they’d ended up sitting cross-legged, across from each other, with Daniel’s hand flayed of skin and sitting in both of Zola’s.

When he didn’t move it it actually didn’t hurt as badly as he’d thought, but Zola wasn’t letting him keep his hand still. She turned it this way and that, inspecting, and he wasn’t complaining. The stinging pain was nice, when it came from her.

Humming in consideration, Zola prodded the middle of Daniel’s palm. “This one,” she decided. Daniel smiled a small, serene smile as she picked up the knife. She was cute when she was pretending like she knew what she was doing.

The smile wiped off his face rather quickly when the little pocket knife hooked under the tendon, pulled up, and snapped it. Not because snapping it hurt any worse than what Daniel was used to, but because the tendon curled back like a rubber band and _coiled under his skin._

He only barely kept from screaming, his intact hand clapping over his mouth as he teared up. Zola’s eyes were huge, her whole body having jumped when his tendon snapped.

“Holy fuck, we need to do that again,” Zola said breathlessly. Daniel made a fractious noise, though, and her gaze snapped to his. There was still excitement in her whole frame (she was practically _vibrating_ with it), but she was aware enough to be concerned at the look on Daniel’s face.

“Yellow,” Daniel gritted out, confirming her suspicions. “C-can we, could we, get it _out._ ”

Shoulders relaxing, Zola set aside the knife and stroked his forearm. “Of course, of course we can. How do you think…?”

“Erm,” Daniel inspected the place where the tendon had balled up in his arm, then looked at the tiny hole the tendon had left behind. “Hook?”

With a huff and a nod, Zola went off to find something suitable. Daniel tried to help, but he was too wobbly on his feet, and anyway Zola wanted him sitting. It didn’t matter if the scene was on hold, she always wanted to take care of him. For once, the knowledge made Daniel feel itchy under his skin; he wanted the tendon put to rights as fast as possible.

She came back with what looked like it had once been a paperclip, although now the only kink left in the metal was at the very end. A hook, just like he’d asked her. Something in Daniel’s spine unwound as she set the thin metal to his wrist, and pushed it in gently.

Each further inch brought an uncomfortable burning, and Daniel could _see_ the metal moving under his skin. It was ridiculous, he normally loved this kind of thing, like when Zola fucked him on a cock so big his stomach deformed. He didn’t know why this was bothering him.

It took quite a bit of fishing around, but eventually Zola hooked the tendon and began pulling it straight again. The relief this time was so great that Daniel nearly collapsed into her.

Once the tendon was put to rights, Zola looked up at Daniel, eyes shining. “Please,” she said. “We gotta do something else. We _gotta._ That was _so hot._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Anyone here a fan of Soul Eater? If my ocs existed in that universe, Daniel would absolutely be a weapon. Specifically, a welsh hook. Zola would of course do an awesome job wielding him, but in the heat of the moment may forget to wait for him to transform and just go in with her fists.


	30. Before the Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% SFW cute date night, though I feel the need to warn for Zola's exceedingly bad taste in television

Cheetos were harder to catch in your mouth than cheese puffs. It was a scientific fact. Daniel insisted this, to explain why he was currently brushing cheese dust off of the couch. It was _not_ that he was worse at catching food than Zola.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Zola leaned her head back a bit, her mouth opened wide to snatch the snack. Daniel tossed it high to give her enough time to get into position. Sure enough-- bullseye.

“Nice!” She cheered. “Your turn again.” When she held up the cheeto, though, Daniel kept his mouth stubbornly shut.

“You’re wasting them,” he said. “Can’t I just eat them normally?”

“Sure, but that’d be _boring._ ” Zola threw the cheeto, forcing Daniel to lunge forward to try to catch it. Of course, he missed.

“Right, boring,” Daniel said sulkily. He picked the cheeto up and tossed it in his mouth. “We could _never_ let something be _boring._ ”

Snorting, Zola reached over and flicked his forehead with orange-stained fingers. “No sass from you,” she chided. Daniel just grinned and caught her hand, kissed the cheese dust off her fingers.

Her face went predictably soft, and she stroked his cheek with her free hand. “You’re such a goof,” she said affectionately. “What are we gonna do with you?” And then she pinched his cheek, just for good measure.

“Spank me into submission?” Daniel suggested. It was a joke, but the eyebrow wiggle that accompanied it was what got Zola to giggle.

“I’m sure I can think of a sexier option than that,” Zola said. Before she could elaborate, a familiar song started playing from the television. Daniel honestly wasn’t sure why they were watching it, but Zola said she liked the trainwreck vibe.

“Sexy punishment after Supernatural?” Daniel asked. Zola waved her hand vaguely, indicating that he should shut up. Sighing, Daniel leaned back against the sofa and settled in for approximately an hour of mediocre writing.

In all fairness, it definitely wasn’t the worst show they could’ve been watching. Daniel tuned the majority of the episode out, scrolling through stuff on his phone instead. He hadn’t actually bothered to keep up with Supernatural in several years, so it wasn’t like he’d understand what was going on even if he was paying attention.

About two thirds of the way through the episode, Zola started laughing uncontrollably. “ _Called it!_ ” She cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “Pfffft, Daniel gimme your phone, I need to tweet.”

“Your phone is like six feet away,” whined Daniel. Of course, he still handed it over, but he was allowed to complain a bit.

“Does my body look six feet long?” Zola asked with one eyebrow raised (how did she do that? Daniel had never figured it out). He groaned and headbutted her.

After a minute of quiet tapping sounds, Zola dropped the phone on Daniel’s head. “Done!” She declared, turning her attention back to the show. Before she could settle in again, however, Daniel had his hands under her arms and was tickling her.

“Oh no you don-- _eek!_ ” Zola always squeaked when he tickled her like that, and Daniel grinned slow and wide. Who needed television when they had a lovely distraction like Zola right next to them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Zola prefers brown leather, while Daniel prefers black. However, both of them prefer worn soft leather items. Daniel thinks the scars in it can tell a story, while Zola just finds it more comfortable.


	31. Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consensual, happy knifeplay. Also possessiveness.

It wasn’t their sharpest knife, nor was it the longest. Really, it wasn’t anything special on its own, aside from the color. But Daniel and Zola both loved the knife, the purple hilt and deep green blade and the _snick_ sound it made when it opened. And the things that gods love are often special in some way.

Zola was currently sliding the knife into Daniel’s body, point first, stabbing him just below his ribcage. He already had three deep wounds pouring blood down his body, a jagged Z shape that had teased at puncturing one of his lungs. He wondered what it would be like, if she _did_ puncture his lungs like this?

“Color?” Zola asked, a feral grin on her face. Daniel knew it was all she could do not to slash his body to pieces with the knife.

“Green,” he said warmly. When he spoke more blood bubbled up from the wounds, sanguine and bright. It was _wonderful._

She only used three thrusts for the O, and two for the L. The middle part of the A was more shallow than Daniel or Zola wanted, same for the little apostrophe, but they were both dedicated to finishing the phrase properly.

The S didn’t hurt as badly as Daniel had hoped; with his ribs inflamed from nicks the way they were, everything was blending together. But when she started in on the next line, he got _exactly_ what he’d wanted. There were only three letters, but each one took an eternity. He wiggled a bit each time the hilt hit his stomach, just to feel the way the metal stayed still around his moving body.

Laughing gently, Zola lapped blood from his navel. “You like that, hart?” Zola said.

“S-so much,” Daniel admitted. He knew that it was a rhetorical question, considering the fact that his cock was pushing into Zola’s sports-bra covered chest, but he still felt the need to answer.

 _ZOLA’S PET._ He wasn’t sure if it was what he’d go for if the marks had been able to scar, but it was true down to his core. As long as she would have him, Daniel belonged to her. She wiped the blade clean on his chest, the heated metal almost scalding as his body cooled from blood loss. He wouldn’t pass out, though; not while they used this knife.

Tracing aimless swirls into his skin with the tip of the blade, Zola leaned up far enough to kiss the stab wounds. Her tongue fucked into them, gathering blood into her mouth. When her cheeks were bulging she shifted again, this time hovering over Daniel’s lips. Without a word, he knew what to do, and he opened his mouth wide.

Copper was a heady flavor on his tongue, so warm that even the half-congealed clumps and poorly mixed in saliva couldn’t make him gag. He _adored_ this.

They suspected that the knife acted as an aphrodisiac, and had tested the theory before. It always felt good, but it had never been like _this,_ with Daniel feeling floaty and alive and beautiful beneath Zola. He wondered if he could come untouched.

When Zola cut thin swirls into either side of his hips, it became obvious that yes, he could. The thin lines of red dripping into the hollows of his hipbones and the thick streams coating his ribs were too much, and he convulsed as come spurted from his cock, stinging in his stab wounds.

“Already?” Zola sounded absolutely thrilled. “Oh, this is perfect. I’m getting _so_ many ideas.”

Daniel realized that he wasn’t going flaccid in the slightest, and got a few ideas himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: Daniel’s favorite movie is Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast. Zola’s favorite is Mad Max: Fury Road. They frequently bicker over which movie to watch, but of course gratuitous gore is a plus for them. Repo: The Genetic Opera is a staple of their movie nights.


	32. Candy Gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blowjobs, blood drinking, happy cutie pies.

Unlike Zola, Daniel preferred big, radical differences from his normal body, if he was going to shapeshift. Which was why he was currently fixated on the mirror, taking in the way his body was so much more pink than usual. The clothes he was wearing helped; he’d put on a lavender tank top and pink miniskirt, knowing that Zola was going to want access to a lot of skin today. But still, the complexion looked… weird.

“Daniel? Are you ready?” Zola huffed, twirling her ringlets around her finger. “You were so excited about a lunch date, but at this rate we’ll never leave.”

“Um,” Daniel flushed, candy pink in his cheeks. “I’m ready.” He opened the bathroom door, holding his right elbow in his left hand. “But I was thinking maybe, you’d want to…”

Why was it so hard to say? Zola was staring at him shrewdly, she clearly knew something was up. A predatory smile was spreading her lips already, so Daniel decided to bite the bullet. “Eat in? Er, eat--”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Zola said, right before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She nipped his bottom lip, but it wasn’t quite hard enough to break the skin, and had him wriggling against her in frustration in seconds.

“Alright, alright,” she laughed at his antics. “We can even sit at the kitchen table. That sound good?”

“Yeah,” Daniel said. He held her hand, grip loose as always, and led her there. Not that she needed someone to guide her to her own kitchen, but he felt like he might buzz out of his skin if he didn’t move. _Sugar rush._

He sat in the seat, and pulled Zola into his lap immediately. She gave a surprised little trill of laughter at that, and Daniel wanted to laugh too, but his nerves were still jangling. When she dipped her head for another kiss, he tilted his face away, so she got a mouthful of jaw instead.

Zola wasn’t one to sweat over Daniel’s eagerness, thankfully, so she just went with the flow. Kissing first under his ear, then the bottom of his chin, she slowly made her way down, until her lips were pressed to his jugular. _There._ He moaned appreciation when she bit down, but it was nothing to the happy squeal she let out when his blood splurted into her mouth.

“Cherry syrup!” She crowed, lapping at the crescent bites she’d left behind. “Oh, this is _great._ How’d you do it?”

“Secret,” Daniel teased. And then _“Jesus,”_ with two voice cracks, because she’d abruptly dropped off his lap and onto the floor.

It wasn’t a position she was in often, but she still exuded power even on her knees. “Need a bigger artery,” she explained, although Daniel could still feel the sticky syrup dripping down his neck. She latched onto his thigh, and sucked a bright red mark through his skin before she even bothered to bite him.

Cherry squirted everywhere, slicking over Zola’s face in goopy strands and staining her green t-shirt. It hurt, but the ache was duller than usual, taking actual time to climb it’s way up Daniel’s body. His toes were curling, high noises spilling from his throat when she caught syrup on her fingers and licked them clean.

Something devious glinted in Zola’s eyes. She reared up to nuzzle at his stomach, and Daniel’s belly twitched in anticipation of a bite. Instead of giving him what he wanted, she nosed her way down, to where his long, thin cock tented the skirt. “Wonder if you’re sweet here, too?”

Before he could answer she was already pulling away his panties and taking him in her mouth. Oh, Daniel could live in this moment _forever._

They continued like that for a while, Zola sucking and then pulling away only long enough to give him another bite. His stomach did get nipped, finally, towards the end. She even let him put his hands in her hair, though of course he still wasn’t allowed to thrust. Finally, finally, he came in her mouth, and it _hurt._ At first he thought the force of it was just a result of her biting, but then she pulled away, licked her lips, and spoke in a voice too surprised to be joking.

“Tastes like sweetened condensed milk!”

Groaning in embarrassment, Daniel covered his face with both of his hands. Zola took his wrists and pulled them away, a gentle smile on her face as she pressed her full belly against him. He felt empty, a little dizzy from low blood sugar, but she seemed utterly satisfied and it was so much better than a normal meal. Neither of them spoke aloud, but when she kissed the flavor of sweetened condensed milk into his mouth, he heard the _I love you_ loud and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel and Zola fact of the day: They love everyone who read this thing. Seriously, all of you have the affection of my favorite ocs. How does that feel?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually an AU of an original work of mine (you can read blurbs about the characters in their canon setting [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5486273/chapters/13114741)) but ironically, I ended up liking this au better than canon, so who knows what’s gonna happen from here on out. I accidentally got this all done in September, btw, so you’re guaranteed a completed work!
> 
> Check out my [guro blog](http://twitchingcorpse.tumblr.com) for more gory funtimes, and please feel free to send writing requests!


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